


Seven Feet of Empty Floor

by RedPen



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 04:12:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8042128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedPen/pseuds/RedPen
Summary: "If the Future Foundation even suspected this, they would kill you, you understand?  So if I’m wrong, tell me now.  …Naegi, please.  Talk to me."Kirigiri is beginning to suspect that Naegi has fallen into despair.





	Seven Feet of Empty Floor

“Naegi,” says Kirigiri.

He turns to look at her. It’s just the two of them, standing across a dimly lit, windowless, concrete room from each other, surrounded by cheap metal shelving units of canned goods and bottled water. This shelter technically belongs to the Future Foundation, though they seldom use it for more than storage. Today, it’s a convenient halfway point between the headquarters nobody’s yet noticed them missing from, and the mission he still believes they’ve been sent on. She’s pulled a lot of strings to have this moment alone with him, and she shuns the idea of backup. If she’s wrong, she won’t need it, and if she’s right… she’ll handle it. She’s good at handling things.

There’s a split second of deadness to his eyes, before they go bright again at the sight of her. “Y…eah?” he says, with a nervous little smile, catching the serious look on her face.

Seven feet of empty floor between them, she thinks, and she’s between him and the door. “Naegi,” she says again, and finds herself, for once, at a loss as to how to present her evidence. “I… there’s something we need to talk about.”

“I’m fine,” he says quickly, looking away again, examining a shelf of creamed corn as if it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. “That’s what you’re gonna ask, right? I know everyone says I’ve been different since… Komaru. But I’m fine. I don’t want to talk about it.”

She exhales slowly, steeling herself. He’s brought it up for her; allowed her an opening to ease into it gently. Introduce the evidence one piece at a time, then, and save the big revelation for the end.

“If you’re going to talk about it with anyone, I think you should talk about it with me,” she says.

“Heh, well, Asahina and Hagakure said that too. I mean… I guess they both lost somebody in Towa City too, so… they could understand.” His voice cracks, at the end.

She feels like garbage, because she was the one who had called him up and told him, stoically, over the phone, that his sister… (who was going to be fine, whose wounds weren’t that serious, that’s what they’d told him when they airlifted her away and left him standing in a pool of her blood, watching the Future Foundation helicopter retreat into the red skies of Towa City, his sister who was _going to live_ ) …was dead on arrival.

She shoves that feeling aside. “I think you could use a little less sympathy and a little more logic, anyway. I want to ask you about it from the point of view of a detective. Figure out exactly how it happened. That would bring you some closure, at least, wouldn’t it?”

“Kirigiri, I really don’t want to-“

“Also, I’m not letting you leave the room until we have this conversation.”

He’s quiet for a while, scrutinizing the creamed corn. “…We know how it happened,” he says, finally.

If her theory is wrong, she’s probably going to hell for this. “Multiple stab wounds,” she says aloud, emotionlessly, and watches as he flinches and turns his back to her. “Made by what was likely a large pair of sewing scissors. All fairly superficial, none fatal on their own, but a long delay before receiving medical treatment-“

“This isn’t a class trial, okay?” he says, weakly, still turned away from her. “We don’t need to go over it like this.”

“-resulted in death by exsanguination, while she was being transported to a Future Foundation medical facility,” she continues, talking over him. “Naegi, I’m sorry, but we NEED to discuss this. Fukawa has no memory of the event, and Syo has been uncharacteristically reluctant to show her face since. She’s going to take the blame for this, but there are things that don’t add up. Komaru doesn’t fit her modus operandi. And the Makoto Naegi I know wouldn’t let one of his friends take the punishment for something she didn’t do.”

He turns around again, a glint in his eyes, and she sees she’s found the right switch to flip.

“There’s no mission, is there.”

“No,” she answers. A half truth. The mission is hers, and it is personal.

Naegi shakes his head, dislodges some of the hurt and weakness her words have planted in him. “Okay. So this _is_ a trial.” He gives her a slightly disapproving look. “We’re really sneaking around like this to talk about it behind the Future Foundation’s back? Fukawa should at least be here to defend herself, right?”

“Right now it’s just a discussion, Naegi. We don’t do trials anymore.”

“Yeah. There’s… a lot of evidence that she did it, Kirigiri.”

“I’d like to believe that she didn’t.”

“Isn’t it kind of lousy detective work, to just look for evidence to prove it went the way you wanted it to?”

“The scenario I’m trying to prove…” Kirigiri says, softly, regretfully, “is definitely not the way I wanted it to go. If Fukawa HAD lost control of her alter ego, if Syo had simply gone berserk and hurt Komaru in the crossfire, that would be so much better than what I suspect actually happened.”

He’s watching her with those wide, trusting eyes. Seven feet of empty floor between them. She is between him and the door.

“Komaru’s body wasn’t crucified,” she continues, watching those eyes. “She doesn’t fit Syo’s MO of attractive young men. It’s possible she did it, but it’s also equally possible that someone just wanted it to LOOK like she did.”

Present the evidence piece by piece. Take it slow. Let the conclusion fall into place. He’s good at this, he’ll understand what she’s saying.

“I just want to go over the timeline of events with you. Maybe we’ll find something.”

“Okay,” he says, finally. “If it’s for Fukawa, I mean… the least we can do for her is be SURE of it, before we let her take the blame for it, right?”

Kirigiri nods. He’s taken the bait. He HAD to, she’s turned the stakes into something it would be out of character to refuse. “Alright. And remember, it’s just a discussion, not a trial. How long were you in Towa City before you found Komaru?”

“A… a few days, I guess?” He’s clearly uncomfortable.

“Three days,” she corrects him. “I’ve checked the Future Foundation’s records. You and your squad reported in upon arrival. We had complete radio silence from you for three days, and then you called again, alone, when you found her.”

“It kinda seems like you don’t even need me here for this,” he says with a small, nervous smile.

“It helps to corroborate. Why did you go silent for those three days?”

“It’s hard to get any kind of signal out of Towa City,” he explains. “It didn’t really seem worth the effort until it was an emergency.”

She can’t find a flaw in the logic, though she suspects that’s not the full story. She moves on. “What happened to the other Future Foundation members you were with?”

“We got separated by the Monokumas. I don’t know what happened to them. This was all in my report, Kirigiri…”

“And you just happened to find Komaru bleeding out in the street, directly after she’d been attacked? You didn’t see her attacker at all?”

“No, Fukawa wasn’t there. This was in my report.”

“Yes. Fukawa’s report aligns with that, at least. She claims she was hit from behind by a blunt object, shortly before the time of the attack, and came to as the helicopter was arriving. Syo has not deigned to give a report.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet she hasn’t.” There’s a darkness in his voice, which might not mean anything. If Syo really did attack his sister, he has every right to it. If she didn’t… she’s between him and the door.

“You didn’t go with her on the helicopter, when they airlifted her out?”

“No, I… I should have. If I had, I would have been there when she…” He shakes his head, vigorously. “No. I was… kind of in shock, I didn’t even think about asking to go with her.”

“Fukawa went with her.” The standard mission reports she’d endlessly skimmed through had been full of excuses about that. They hadn’t examined the wounds yet, they hadn’t drawn the obvious conclusion.

“I know… I’m not mad at her, you know, I’m really, really not. Whatever happened wasn’t her fault, and she and Komaru were really close, and I know she’d never MEAN to hurt her.”

Watch his eyes. They’re almost pleading, suddenly; they’re trying to make her understand.

“That’s your opinion of the killer, then? That this person cared about Komaru? That it wasn’t their fault, that they didn’t mean to do it?”

“Yeah,” he says, without breaking eye contact. “Yeah, I think that’s exactly what happened.”

It’s time to propose a culprit, and she knows she has to approach this delicately. She doesn’t have solid evidence, but she thinks she can bluff it. Exude rock hard confidence that she already knows the answer, and let him fill in the blanks.

“Let’s assume for the moment that Syo was a scapegoat; that she wasn’t involved. Then, the most likely suspect… would be the person who ‘found’ Komaru directly after the attack. Wouldn’t it, Makoto Naegi.”

He stares at her. Watch his eyes, watch as they narrow, see his flash of anger, of understanding. See them go dull. It’s ever so subtly the wrong reaction, and her heart plummets.

“You’ve got that wrong,” he says, blankly.

“You’ve been acting differently since your trip to Towa City,” Kirigiri tells him, her voice flat and calm. “Subtle things, easily explained away by grief, had I not seen you grieve the death of nine other friends in quick succession. I know what your grief looks like, Naegi. It is not this refusal to talk. It is not this empty expression.”

“Those people weren’t my sister.” Dull, dead eyes. Flat voice, filled with resignation. He’s defending himself, but suddenly he doesn’t seem to care that she’s accusing him. No, no, she wanted to be wrong, she wanted so badly to be wrong.

Seven feet of empty floor between them, and she’s between him and the door.

“And yet your reaction to her death seemed off, somehow, when I spoke with you over the phone. Like you were reciting lines you’d practiced.”

“I wasn’t.”

“The Future Foundation has ample evidence,” she says, coldly, “That the Remnants of Despair have access to brainwashing technology. So I need you to think _very carefully_ about _exactly_ what happened to you in Towa City, during those three days in which your entire squad went missing and your sister was attacked.”

He’s silent. She would have preferred an appalled, offended, boldfaced lie of a protest to that silence.

“…I wanted to accuse you of this here,” Kirigiri tells him, gesturing around at the concrete shelter, the dim sulfurous overhead lighting, the shelves of cans. “Because if the Future Foundation even _suspected_ this, they would kill you, you understand? So if I’m wrong, tell me now. …Naegi, please. Talk to me.”

He’s looking at the floor now with those dead, unseeing eyes, a small, hopeless smile on his face. She notes how the tension he’s been carrying since she first spoke starts to leave him; how his shoulders sag with what she could swear is relief. “That’s your theory, huh?”

“It’s fact,” she bluffs, because she’s confident that if she’s wrong, he has the skill at debating to prove it, and if she’s right, he’ll assume she’s already found all the evidence.

Another long silence. She’s right. She’s _right_ , she’s a Kirigiri, she knows it in her gut.

“Yeah,” he says at last, that smile not leaving his face. “I guess you caught me.”

“Oh god, Naegi.”

He looks up at her at last with those dead eyes, that weak, banal smile plastered like a mask across his face. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” she says, speaking into the hollow, silent air of their concrete room. “It’s only been a few days, but even so, I should have noticed sooner. No, I should have noticed something was wrong the minute we lost contact with you. Maybe then I could have prevented what happened to your sister.”

“It’s not your fault,” he answers. “Does… everybody else know? Togami, and Asahina, and everybody?”

“Yes.” Another half lie. Asahina and Hagakure have no idea, but she’s talked the possibility over thoroughly with Fukawa, during her own investigations into the attack, and Togami has a letter he’s been instructed to open only in the event of her death. But if Naegi is really in despair, she’s not going to give him any ammunition; not a shred of information he can use against them.

“I guess you really were sure of this, huh,” says Naegi.

Deep down, she absolutely was. If she hadn’t so vehemently denied it to herself for so long, if she hadn’t looked only for the evidence that proved what she wanted to be true, maybe she could have helped him sooner. “Listen,” she says, keeping her voice calm, “We’ll deal with this internally, just the six of us. The Future Foundation doesn’t have to know. We don’t know yet if this kind of brainwashing can be reversed, but we’re going to try. We’re going to do everything we can for you, Naegi. I promise.”

“You really should have told the Future Foundation,” he says, apologetically, reaching into the jacket of his standard issue Future Foundation suit. “This was a really bad idea.”

She’s been too confident. She cannot handle this. Seven feet of empty floor between them, and despite the fact that she’s stronger than he is, despite the wealth of self-defense she’s picked up over the years, despite how quickly she lunges forward, she’s only covered half the distance before he pulls the gun on her. She stops dead, eyes wide, as he presses the cool barrel of the pistol to her forehead.

“Naegi,” she says, faintly. He was not supposed to have a gun.

“It’s amazing what they’ll just let you _borrow_ when you’re the hero who defeated Junko, isn’t it?” Naegi says, smiling dully at her, and it is his voice, but not his words. There's some writhing, choking, cheerful thing blossoming like a fever behind his eyes. “I guess you’ll all have to die, if you told everyone. They’ll probably all be like you, though. They’ll avoid telling the Future Foundation, because they’ll want to save me. Even if I kill them off one by one, they’ll still die wanting to save me.”

His finger teases the trigger, gently, and a bead of sweat runs down his temple.

“It was Komaru that gave it away, huh? My reaction was off. Well, I guess even despair can’t make me a Super High School Level actor, right?” A weak laugh. “I’m still just as talentless as ever.”

He hasn’t fired. He wants to talk. She obliges, standing utterly still, choosing her words carefully.

“You’re Super High School Level Hope, Naegi. Your talent is inspiring those around you. It always has been, whether Hope’s Peak acknowledged it or not.”

His smile slips, for an instant, and his hand trembles on the gun. “I… don’t think you can really call me that right now, Kirigiri. Crap, why is it you, why did it have to be you…”

“I share the sentiment,” she answers. If it had been any of the others, Naegi would have been the person she brought along to talk them down, but this time it’s up to her and her alone.

“There’s something I don’t understand,” she says, watching his eyes, always watching his eyes, careful not to antagonize. He hasn’t fired. He wants to talk. He's _stalling._ “With a talent like yours working for despair, you could have destroyed the Future Foundation from the inside, with only words. Why kill Komaru, and risk getting caught?”

The smile is back. Makoto Naegi’s smile, on Makoto Naegi’s face, but twisted, uncanny. “Despair isn’t supposed to make _sense_ , detective. If it did, it wouldn’t be any fun.” Makoto Naegi’s voice, but Junko’s words. Kirigiri feels a brief stab of white hot rage at that, at Junko, at the creeping stain of herself she’s left on the world, but she tamps it down. “I killed her to see if I _could_. If I could kill my own sister, I could kill anyone, right?”

Ah. There it is, the crack in his argument. She takes a deep breath, the gun cold against her forehead.

“You’ve… got that wrong.”

His own words, fired back at him, catch him off guard. He stares at her. “What makes you say that?”

“Because… everything I’ve been saying to you up to this point is a lie. Komaru Naegi isn’t dead.”

The smile is gone, abruptly, from a face too pale and drenched with cold sweat, and she can feel his hand shaking on the gun. She sees it: that flicker of something in his empty eyes, some spark of Makoto Naegi flashing to the surface.

“S-she’s alive? Komaru’s alive?”

“Yes.” Truth, this time, one hundred percent. “She made it to the medical complex in time, and received a blood transfusion and a lot of stitches. I already suspected you at that point, so I lied to you to gauge your reaction.”

“That’s… really messed up, Kirigiri,” he says, sounding faint.

“She wasn’t able to identify her attacker, but she was certain it wasn’t Genocider Syo. And Syo herself was perfectly willing to confirm; I lied about that as well. The Future Foundation is already satisfied of her innocence, and you’re unlikely to have a second shot at Komaru, considering our resident serial killer refuses to leave her bedside. But I think deep down, you already knew all this, didn’t you?”

There is a gun to her head; she can’t afford to push him too hard, but she also can’t afford to let that faint light in his eyes die out again. She takes the risk.

“I think some part of you knew she was alive, because I think that part of you was holding back. Her wounds were shallow. You avoided major arteries, you stabbed where you were sure not to hit an organ. You were _fighting it_ , Naegi.”

“You really believe that?” he asks, “Or is this just another one of those things you’re trying to find evidence for because you want it to be true? I told you, Kirigiri, that’s kinda lousy detective work.”

This is it: if she’s reading him wrong, if she really is just grasping at straws because she wants it to be true, then this is the evidence that will kill her. “No, I think it’s the truth. Because I think you’re fighting it now, too. You haven’t shot me yet.”

That spark of emotion in his eyes strengthens slightly, she _knows_ it does. He’s still in there. He doesn’t put a bullet in her head. "What's your proof of that?"

“Your hands are shaking,” she says. “You’re sweating. If Makoto Naegi was completely gone, I’d be dead by now, but you’re still standing here and talking, because you want an excuse, any excuse, not to pull that trigger. Maybe it would be different if this despair was a conscious choice you made, but it’s not. It’s just brainwashing, just an outside influence trying to rearrange your head, and you’re fighting it.”

He grits his teeth, that flame in his eyes brightening. He doesn’t put a bullet in her head.

“You didn’t kill Komaru. If your argument is that you can kill anyone now that you’ve killed your sister, then I’m sorry to say that you’ve failed step one.”

“I wanted to kill her.”

“You stopped yourself. You can stop yourself now.”

“You’re… putting an awful lot of faith in me right now, Kirigiri,” he says, a quaver in his voice, and he presses the gun harder against her skull, forcing her head back slightly. “It’s a bad idea. It’s a really, really bad idea.” His breathing is short, uneven gasps. He doesn’t put a bullet in her head.

“I have never once found it a bad idea to put faith in you, Naegi.”

“ _Kirigiri…_ ” Naegi chokes out; a strangled, ragged, whimper of a sound.

He drops the gun.

Instantly, she slams her heel down on it and kicks it into a corner of the room, where it rattles across the concrete and gets lost under a shelf. His body jerks instinctively as though to dive after it, but she seizes his wrists and wrenches him around backward, slamming his face hard into the shelf of creamed corn behind him. He struggles against her, but she never leaves home without a variety of zip ties, and after a moment of thrashing around, she’s forced him to the ground and bound his hands and ankles.

“You’re amazing. I don’t think people tell you that enough,” she says to him, gently, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and holding him still until he realizes he’s well and truly caught, and the fight slowly drains out of him.

He laughs. A faint, half sob of a laugh, but it is fully his. “Why aren’t you furious at me?”

“I’m furious at whoever did this to you, that’s for certain.”

“That’s not really fair. The people who did this to me, the Remnants of Despair… someone did it to them, too. And they probably didn’t have anybody telling them to fight it.”

Kirigiri exhales deeply, her arms still draped over his shoulders, her face pressed into his hair, damp with sweat. “You’re talking like you again.”

“Yeah. I think I’m gonna be okay now. You can untie me.”

“No.”

“That’s fair.” His tone is joking, but his face is still slick with the sweat of resisting his own despair.

“I’ve lied to you about a lot of things, today,” she murmurs into his hair, “But not this. We are going to help you. Whatever it takes.” She hopes that it's not another half truth. "Whatever it takes."


End file.
